As one of the monstrous volunteers, Heather wasn’t given access to any of STFU’s files. The only history she knew was what they figured she needed to know for an operation, and that was usually minimal and given at the last possible minute. The only way she would find out anything about Nemesis was if somebody told her, and since the Task Force was an untrusting bunch, the list of people who might share was very short.

“You want to say something, Kerkonen? Spit it out, because I really want to call it a day.”

“I just remembered Franks said something during our fight.”

Beth was suspicious. “So you just happened to forget this part during your debrief?”

“You know, bestial werewolf savagery and whatnot.”

“I bet . . . Except you’re the most coherent werewolf we’ve ever found.”

“Blame it on the head injuries. I had a railroad-track-shaped dent right here.” Heather was committed now. “Franks said he was innocent.”

“He sure isn’t acting innocent. Ask Putlack. Oh, wait. You can’t.”

Heather leaned across the table. “The evidence at the MCB building isn’t right. There’s more going on than what we’ve been told.”

“Why do you think that?”

“This.” Heather pointed at her nose. “Plus lots of years putting up yellow tape around crime scenes, I know what they should look like, but none of those involved something that bled green, but smelled like spider webs and bubblegum.”

Beth kept her face blank. “They’re looking into that still. Whatever it was in that elevator never got caught on video. Our boss says that Franks must have had something helping him.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that by now you’d know to keep your mouth shut and keep your head down until your time’s served. Are you trying to get in trouble?” It sounded more like a warning than a threat. “This is way over your head. Certain people in charge don’t have any patience when it comes to Task Force volunteers rocking the boat. The MCB is investigating. If there’s anything to that, they’ll figure it out.”

Heather could leave it. She could keep her mouth shut for a year, get her exemption, and walk away. Too bad she’d never been very good at being a quitter. “Franks mentioned something else.”

“Oh, come on, Kerkonen.” Beth rubbed her face with both hands. “Bestial werewolf forgetfulness again?”

“Blame it on the concussion. Whatever.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“What’s Nemesis?”

The Flierls were normally pretty good at not giving away too much to their monstrous charges, but not this time. Beth’s surprise was obvious. “Franks mentioned Nemesis?”

“He blamed the whole thing on Str . . . on our employer. He said Nemesis had to be stopped.”